


You Make Broken Look Beautiful

by rivers_of_tea



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Injury, Major Character Injury, Oikawa Tooru's Knee Injury, Poor Oikawa Tooru, iwaizumi has feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-04-30 10:34:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14495058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivers_of_tea/pseuds/rivers_of_tea
Summary: “The Japanese art of kintsugi teaches that broken objects are not something to hide but to display with pride.” - Stefano CarnazziFor Oikawa, 10 seconds was all it took to break. Luckily, Iwaizumi has always been freakishly good at collecting the pieces.





	1. Paradise Lost

**Author's Note:**

> I did a LOT of research for this piece in an attempt to make it as believable as possible so please forgive me any mistakes.
> 
> Title adapted from a poem by Ariana Dancu
> 
> Vincit qui patitur - He who endures, conquers.

One second:

Oikawa’s hands positioned above his head, fingers splayed. Eyes focused beyond his fingertips on the ball spinning through the air, feet moving to position himself below it.

Two seconds:

His feet find their position and still, as his knees bend. Powerful leg muscles bunch beneath creamy skin. Chest collapses, forcing air out of the lungs. Back straight, elbows out.

Three seconds:

He jumps, high and strong, dragging air in to fuel his body. Muscles work together to help him soar into the air towards his target. His fingers seek the ball like plants seek the sun, moving on a combination of instinct and muscle memory, burned into his body from thousands of hours of work. His eyes flit to the spiker. How high have they jumped, where is their hand, how far into their swing are they, what is the angle of their body, where are they expecting the ball, what kind of toss are they hoping for, what kind of toss does the situation need. Microseconds of time, and already he knows the speed, the angle, the direction, the height he needs for the spiker to reach their goal.

Four seconds:

His fingers contact the ball, stretching slightly under its weight as he slows its movement. His arms stretch, the muscles in his arms, shoulders and back shifting as they force the ball across the court in the shape of the set he knows best. His breath whooshes out of his chest with the effort, his eyes follow the arc of the ball as his arms fall to his side and his legs stretch, searching for the ground.

Five seconds:

His eyes follow the swing of his partners arm. Envisioning the movement of muscles beneath tan skin as Iwaizumi spikes the ball with the strength of the ace. His feet meet the ground and his knees bend, absorbing the weight of his body. He doesn’t need to look at the ball. He trusts Iwaizumi completely, knows that the ball will slam into the ground on the other side of the court through sheer willpower alone.

Six seconds:

Before his body is fully straightened he turns, ready to make his way back to the starting position, ready for another. His shoulders lead the way, hips following and legs twisting after. Except one of them doesn’t. His right leg slips, toes sliding out from under his body. Before he can think, he sticks his hands out to absorb the shock of the fall. Body only half twisted, he prepares for the pain of landing on his hip. That’s when he feels it. A rip, he swears he can almost hear, reverberates outwards from his knee. He freezes in shock and his arms crumble beneath him as he hits the floor with a bang that echoes of the high gym walls, breath forced from his lungs, shoulder crunching and head snapping against the floor.

Seven seconds:

The world goes white and then black. He isn't breathing, can’t even remember what it feels like to have his lungs filled with air. Everything aches, his hip, shoulder, arm and head where they lie against the cold floor. A dull roar comes from his knee and grows in his ears until finally, like a tsunami, it crashes over him.

Eight seconds:

Sound, sight and breath return in a rush and in every space between the cells that make up his body is pain. The muscles surrounding his left shoulder and elbow, bent awkwardly beneath his body, pull in directions they were never meant to. The bone in his hip throbs in hot waves as it is ground into the floor. His eyes remain unfocused, the side of his head laced with shooting pains that spiderweb across his skull, while the centre where it struck the ground throbs, deep and insistent. Above it all, his knee burns. Fire licks in his veins, sending shockwaves through his thigh and into his hip. Molten lava pools inside his knee joint and eats, turning his knee to mush. Before he can stop himself a strangled scream tears from within his chest. Untempered by embarrassment or shame, the raw shriek of pain rips from his body.

Nine Seconds:

A slam sounds beside him as the familiar shape of Iwaizumi slides to his knees, speaking loudly and demandingly in his ear. Oikawa can barely focus on anything he is saying as the muddled pieces of information in his brain finally work together to comprehend what has happened to him. He has injured his knee. And not in a “Some ice and a piggyback home and I will be fine Iwa-chan” kind of way. This was serious. For years and years he had been pushing his body, searching for his limits and how to surpass them.

He hadn’t reached them yet.

He hadn’t.

He hadn't.

He wouldn’t let himself. He had a long way to go.

He was going to Nationals.

He was going to the Olympics.

Ten Seconds:

For a moment his mind wrenches itself free of the cloud of pain, it tells him not to panic. Injuries aren’t uncommon, so it’s not as bad as you think. Yes it hurts, but it’s probably more the shock of the injury, rather than the injury itself that hurts. His brain tries to piece it together, struggling to think through the encroaching pain and Iwaizumi’s yelling. He tries to breathe, tries to move his body, tries to focus to reassure and calm Iwaizumi who’s beginning to sound desperate. But no matter how he tries, he can’t help but hear the words that reverberate through his body, forced from within the chambers of his heart and repeating with every pump of blood “You’re broken. It’s over.”

Hot tears prick and collect in the corners of his eyes. And then the panic sets in.


	2. Kintsugi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Author does the dogeza* Forgive me, master. Though this chapter was mostly written when the first chapter was published, this poor, inefficient and inferior author was not happy with it until now. I prostrate myself before you and beg your humble and everlasting forgiveness *dogeza repeatedly as I fade into the distance*
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy. :) :)

Iwaizumi had never felt this scared in his whole life.

Not when he walked away from his mum at the local market as a child, chasing a praying mantis he had noticed hiding among the pot plants of a nearby stall. He had turned back to call her over but she’d moved on and become lost in the crowd. The stampeding foot traffic of unknown adults, the only sight a panicked 3 year old could comprehend for what felt like hours, but turned out to be only two minutes.

It wasn’t when he and Oikawa had been playing volleyball at their local park and had accidentally thrown the ball into the street. He’d chased it onto the road without looking, desperate to retrieve it and prove to Oikawa that he understood this confusing but strangely fun game. The car hadn’t stopped in time and he and Oikawa had heard the alarming POP of their ball underneath the car tyre from where they lay, sprawled along the footpath. Oikawa’s small, chubby hand had grabbed the back of Iwaizumi’s Godzilla top just in time, leaving it permanently stretched round the neck. At first, it was just the shock of almost being killed. The fear came later, when his mother found out.

It wasn’t even when he and Oikawa had gone to Sendai the weekend before the new school year returned. They’d been 15, about to begin life as high schoolers and stopped to see the last viewings of that summer’s action movie. At least, that’s what they’d told their parents. In reality, after they’d purchased their tickets and passed the bored looking teen who let them into the cinema corridor, they’d bypassed cinema 5 and moved straight on to cinema 9, where the new horror movie had just begun it’s run. At R18+, they weren’t allowed to buy tickets but as soon to be high schoolers, they didn’t care much for the meagre threat of being removed from the cinema. They’d settled in the darkened theatre, feeling smug, and a touch nervous, before spending the next 2 hours rigid in their seats, and unconsciously leaning closer together. After the movie was over, and the lights came back on they’d felt foolish and had laughed and joked about how unrealistic the movie was. But when volleyball practiced began a week later, and the setting sun only lit the beginning of their journey home, they felt nervous laughs bubble from them, and power-walked to the intersection where they went different ways. Neither admitted to the other that they ran the rest of the way home.

Nothing in his young life had come close to the fear that gripped his heart like seeing Oikawa lying still on the ground.

As usual, Oikawa had insisted on staying late after volleyball practice. Iwaizumi usually stayed behind as well, both to help transition plays from Oikawa’s head to the reality of the court, as well as to keep an eye on Oikawa.

Having known Oikawa most of his life, Iwaizumi was keenly aware of Oikawa’s bad habits. He knew that if they practiced until Oikawa was satisfied, chest heaving and uniform dripping sweat, then he would forgo eating, claiming no appetite, in order to have time to shower and finish his homework before bed. On the other hand, if he didn’t let Oikawa practice until he felt he had worked enough, he would go home and sit up watching games and planning new plays and strategising until the wee hours of the morning.

Neither was an outcome that Iwaizumi was happy with and so he practiced with Oikawa until there was a fine sheen of sweat on their foreheads and they began to take longer to recover between each maneuver. Then he would kick Oikawa out of the hall, sometimes drag him during competition season, and have them both home in time to eat dinner, shower and finish their homework before collapsing into bed.

The first half an hour was usually spent with Oikawa serving and Iwaizumi receiving. His receive wasn't his strongest skill and Oikawa always wanted to work on increasing the power in his serves without having to compromise on precision. This often left Iwaizumi trying to receive powerful serves with no guarantee of where they would arrive on the court (a great way for him to work on his speed, despite the growing ache in his forearms) and sometimes produced a serve full of power that flew directly into the back corner of the court, which left goosebumps on Iwaizumi’s neck and a small smile of satisfaction on Oikawa's face.

After Iwaizumi’s forearms and Oikawa’s right hand were sufficiently red, they'd swap to setting and spiking. Iwaizumi would throw the ball up for Oikawa so he could set, and then Iwaizumi would try to spike the ball. It sounded easier than it was, after all Oikawa wasn't always setting for Iwaizumi. As they practiced he would imagine each of his spikers, working on producing the set he knew they liked best. Sometimes adjusting a players favourite set to better fit boys whose bodies were getting taller and stronger. This left Iwaizumi sometimes unable to reach the sets meant for taller players with longer arms or having to adjust his arm in the air to make contact with a ball closer to the net than he preferred. But most often Iwaizumi used this time to watch Oikawa. Trying to find the little signs his body gave away to indicate his thought process. Whether his eyes flitted left or right, which hand was raised slightly higher, whether his feet were aligned or not.

It was almost the end of their nightly practice and Oikawa was setting for Iwaizumi, sending him the toss that he preferred as it allowed him to put the full force of the biceps he was so proud of behind it. _Five more minutes_ , he decided as he spiked the ball, watching in satisfaction as it slammed down on the other side of the court. He whooshed out a breath and wiped his forehead on his arm, turning to grab another ball from the basket.

As he turned, his eyes searched for Oikawa, expecting him to be standing there, eyes watching the ball as it slammed into the opposite side of the court, that same little concentrated frown, more quietly determined than his competition frown, chasing his features.

Instead, Iwaizumi’s body stilled, as his mind looked on in confusion at the scene before him. Oikawa was lying on the ground on his side, unnaturally still. _What the hell is Oikawa doing?_ Iwaizumi’s eyes narrowed in confusion. _Is he resting? Maybe catching his breath? But we haven’t been practicing that hard and Tooru’s got a lot of stamina. Maybe he’s sick? That idiot will hide anything if he thinks it’ll keep him from practice._

Iwaizumi took a tentative step forward, his mouth ready to yell at Oikawa about whatever sickness he had been keeping from him but his mind still hesitated, unsure of what was really going on. _Is it a trick?_ That was until he saw Tooru’s hand twitch, reaching toward his knee plaintively and then heard that scream.

It seemed to rip from Tooru’s chest unwillingly, starting off quiet and growing to an ear splitting shriek before Oikawa appeared to force his mouth shut, leaving the sound to reverberate through Iwaizumi’s head.

He dived across the court, sliding next to Tooru, the skin of his knees burning as it stuck on the waxed gym floors, hands hovering, afraid to touch but needing to do something to stop the pain on Tooru’s face.

“Oikawa? Oikawa are you okay? Tooru, what’s wrong?” He noticed the fingers of Oikawa’s right hand shaking as they stretched toward his knee; Couldn’t help the tone of his voice rising ever so slightly in panic. “Are you hurt?”

Oikawa didn’t respond but Iwaizumi could see his eyes go shiny as tears pooled at their edges. Iwaizumi could feel the panic rising inside of him. No matter where he looked he couldn’t seem to escape the breathless feeling of his chest tightening. His thoughts scattered, unable to focus on anything. _What should I do? What’s wrong with him? I know CPR? And how to treat bug bites but what fucking good is that Hajime! How the fuck is that going to help Tooru?_

Before he could think, Iwaizumi was smoothing Oikawa’s curls away from his face, trying to get him to focus on him. Ignoring the slight tremor in his voice as he asked “Tooru? Tooru please answer me. Tooru please, you’re scaring me.”

With no response, Iwaizumi got to his feet and ran to the corner of the gym where they had stashed their bags. He ripped open his bag, flinging books and his uniform out of the way to grab his phone before rushing back to Oikawa’s side.

He dialled 119 and waited, hand on Oikawa’s shoulder, for someone to answer the phone. _Come on come on come on FUCKING god hurry_ \- A brusque voice suddenly sounded in Iwaizumi’s ear “Do you require fire or ambulance?”

“Ambulance, w-we need an ambulance.”

“Which Prefecture are you calling from?”

“Miyagi”

“Ok, I’m connecting you to the Emergency Services Authority in Miyagi.”

“Wait, plea- DAMMIT!” Iwaizumi’s knuckles went white at the hold music, squeezing his phone in frustration. _I don’t have time for this._ Oikawa’s breathing had changed, becoming loud rapid gasps, his eyes screwed shut. Iwaizumi was rubbing what he hoped were calming circles into his back when a cool female voice, made slightly fuzzy by the questionable reception inside the gym, sounded through his phone.

“Hello, where is your emergency?”

“In the Volleyball gym, at Aoba Johsai High School.”

“And what number are you calling from?”

“What num-” Iwaizumi felt his gut burn hot. “Who gives a shit, have you sent an ambulance yet!?”

The voice sounded as though it softened just slightly as the woman explained, “I need your number so I can call you back if we get disconnected. The quicker you answer my questions the quicker we can help.”

Iwaizumi squeezed the bridge of his nose, ignoring the tremor in his hands, and took a deep calming breath as he answered. “From my mobile, XXX-XXXX-XXXX.”

“Alright, now what happened?” “My friend is hurt. I think it’s his knee. I don’t know what happened, we were just practicing in the hall and” another deep breath, another attempt to remain calm, “I turned around and he was on the floor.”

“Okay, you said you were practicing volleyball is that right?”

“Yes” Iwaizumi whispered, eyes focused on Oikawa’s face.

“Okay, I’ve sent an ambulance and they are on their way. They should be there in a couple of minutes alright?”

Iwaizumi felt himself nod, even though the woman couldn’t see him. He forced out an “Okay” as he focused on Oikawa again. He breathing was still strange, sounding sticky, as though the air was thick and refused to move for him. Iwaizumi rubbed more circles onto Oikawa’s back, leaning down and trying to catch his attention.

“What’s your name?”

“Iwaizumi Hajime.”

“And what is your friends name Iwaizumi?”

A rush of protective instinct flooded his body, “Oikawa Tooru.”

“Alright Iwaizumi, let’s work together to help Oikawa ok? Is he hurt anywhere other than his knee?”

“He fell on his arm but I think it’s alright, but I” - _calm Hajime, stay calm_ \- “I think he hit his head, his eyes seem out of focus.”

“Ok, is he still on the ground now?”

“Yeah, on his side”

“That’s great Iwaizumi, keep him on his side like that. Is there any blood on his head?”

_Oh God_. Iwaizumi swallowed the lump in his throat as he shoved his phone between his ear and shoulder before moving his hands into Oikawa’s hair. Gently he ran his fingertips over Oikawa’s scalp, searching for anything unexpected. He lifted Oikawa’s head gently, quickly searching the area where his head lay in contact with the ground. Oikawa groaned as he prodded what was obviously tender skin, before he lowered his head once again. Iwaizumi couldn’t help the sob of relief when his hands left his head, blood-free.

“N-No, I don’t think so.”

“Ok you’re doing great. Is Oikawa conscious?”

“Yes.”

“Is he breathing?”

“Yeah, but it’s not normal? He keeps gasping-”

“Hajime.” Iwaizumi’s heart jolted in his chest as he heard Oikawa gasp his name and found him looking up at him. His eyes were filled with unshed tears, his cheeks shiny with the ones that had escaped, but his grip was firm on Iwaizumi’s tracksuit. He almost dropped his phone in his haste to answer. “Tooru! What’s wrong?”

“I-I can’t breathe.”

“Tooru you are breathing, just try and-” Oikawa released Iwaizumi’s pants, rolling onto his back and closing his eyes. His breaths only came faster and more ragged.

“Tooru? Tooru? Fuck. He says he can’t breathe but he is breathing.”

“Can you put the phone to his mouth so I can listen?”

“Sure.” Iwaizumi moved the phone, holding it above Oikawa’s mouth, rubbing circles on his chest, before returning it to his ear.

“Okay, Iwaizumi, he sounds like he might be having a panic attack. Just try and stay calm, they can happen after trauma.”

“A panic att-” _Oh God, not again._ Iwaizumi felt a fresh rush of terror overcome him as memories flooded his mind. He clenched his fists, feeling his nails dig into his palm. _Don’t think about it Hajime. Focus on Tooru. He needs you._ He forced his mind to concentrate, blinking away memories of another time.

“What do I do? I don’t know how-”

“Iwaizumi I need you to remain calm and do as I tell you.” Another unseen nod. “Try to help Oikawa breathe. Get him to follow you and take deep, slow breaths.”

“Okay.” He could do this. For Tooru. “Tooru? Tooru open your eyes. I need you to focus on me.” It took a moment in which Iwaizumi desperately stared at Oikawa's closed eyelids, thin and slightly blue from the veins underneath, before Oikawa suddenly flicked them open to stare at Hajime’s chest.

“Great. Tooru, I want you to try and breath with me okay?”

“I can't breathe Hajime,” Oikawa insisted, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Yes you can Tooru. Look,” Iwaizumi grabbed Oikawa’s hand where it was resting limp beside him. He dropped the phone next to them and activated the speaker mode whilst he pushed back the sweaty curls from Oikawa’s forehead and lifted his other hand to rest on Iwaizumi’s chest. “Breathe with me Oikawa. You can feel me breathing right? In and out, slowly, try and copy okay?”

It took a while as Oikawa worked on slowing his breathing, Iwaizumi trying to help in anyway he could. Oikawa squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the sound of Iwaizumi’s voice, gently coaxing him to breathe slowly, telling him that he was going to be ok.

Iwaizumi had almost forgotten that he was still on the phone with the emergency services when the female voice, made tinny by the speaker, spoke. “Is he breathing better now?”

“Yeah.” Oikawa’s breathing had picked up for a second at hearing the woman's voice, but at a push of his hand against Iwaizumi's chest it had settled again.

“Does Oikawa have a history of panic attacks?”

“He had one once, a few years ago.”

“Ok, how does his knee look? Does it look discoloured or damaged in anyway?”

Iwaizumi took a second to look away from Oikawa’s face and glance at his knee. Smooth, cream skin met his eyes. “No, it looks fine.”

“Hmmm, ok.” For a moment, all was quiet before the tone of the woman's voice changed, suddenly back to its cool business tone.

“Alright Iwaizumi? The ambulance is just around the corner. Is there anyone who can meet them out the front of the school and guide them to the hall?”

“No, coach left us the key to lock up.”

“Okay, then I’m going to need you to go to the gate and guide them.”

“What?” Iwaizumi looked at the phone in shock. “I can’t leave him, what if something happens?”

“Nothing will happen. But if you don’t go they won’t know where you are and Oikawa needs you to get the Paramedics to him.”

Iwaizumi looked down at Oikawa, eyes still closed but breath coming slow and regular. If it weren't for the stiff grimace of obvious pain that lingered in the corners of his mouth and the shiny tracks of shed tears down the sides of his face, he almost looked like he could be resting. _Okay, let's go and come back. He will be fine. He will be fine._

“Okay. Tooru, I will be back in just a minute alright? I’m going to get the paramedics. Just keep breathing.” A tight nod.

“Iwaizumi, bring the phone and tell me when you see the paramedics.”

“Okay.” Iwaizumi stood from beside Oikawa and ran. His shoes squeaked on the floors of the gym before he burst out of the doors, letting them slam behind him. The chill of the night air was a shock after the warmth of the gym but he didn’t let himself hesitate. He sprinted round the side of the gym, breath huffing out as he rounded corners and jumped over low bushes, leaving a trail of flattened grass and scattered leaves.

When he finally reached the wide pathway that lead to and from the school, he saw two strangers, both in matching blue uniforms jump outside of a white emergency van.

“I can see them” he said into the speaker of the phone.

“Okay I’m going to hang up Iwaizumi. Make sure you follow all of the paramedic’s instructions.” The woman’s voice was thin without the acoustics of the gym and she disconnected before Iwaizumi could thank her. As he came to an abrupt stop beside the van the taller of the two paramedics addressed him in a gravelly voice.

“Are you Iwaizumi?”

“Yes. Please hurry, it’s this way.”

Iwaizumi turned to lead them back to the gym when he felt a large hand grasp his shoulder and spin him back around.

“Hold up kiddo. We need to get our equipment. Can your friend walk?”

Iwaizumi couldn’t help the glare he leveled at the paramedic’s back as they walked away to help their partner carry a large bag out from the back of the van. He worked to keep his voice polite, desperate to return to Oikawa’s side.

“I don’t think so.” He watched anxiously as the second paramedic disappeared into the back of the van and, with the first paramedics help, pulled out a stretcher. Once it was on the ground the first paramedic commanded him to “Lead on” and they took off at a brisk jog toward the gym.

When the gym was in sight Iwaizumi rushed ahead to hold open the doors as the paramedics lifted the stretcher up the few steps. His breathed rushed out in relief, his heart stuttering for the second it took to see Oikawa take a deep breath.

As soon as they were in he let the door slam and rushed back to Oikawa’s side, hands immediately finding Oikawa’s.

“I’m back Tooru. The paramedics are here. They’re going to help you.”

“Excuse me, can you please take a step back so we can assess the patient.” The shorter of the paramedics stood next to Iwaizumi, a navy bag with a red cross, bulging at the seams, held between both hands. Iwaizumi shuffled aside and made to step away when Oikawa squeezed his hand, fingers white with the pressure of his grip. His eyes wide and too dark in his pale face.

“Hajime, don’t leave me. Please don’t-”

“Hey Hey, calm down” Iwaizumi’s free hand pushed into the sweaty curls of Oikawa’s hair, running along his head before pulling gently on the smaller, tighter curls that framed his neck, “I’m not going anywhere Tooru. I promise.”

* * *

When they emerged from the ambulance corridor at the ER, Oikawa was whisked away behind a curtain, the paramedics and nurses shouting to be heard over the ruckus of the large room. Iwaizumi tried to push through the crush of ocean green clad people, his eyes never leaving the direction in which they had taken Oikawa, before a short, but surprisingly strong older nurse pushed into his side like a bulldozer and didn’t stop until he was deposited in front of a desk at the end of what appeared to be a waiting area.

The man behind the desk roughly forced a clipboard on Iwaizumi and commanded that he sit in the waiting room. Iwaizumi did so, finding an empty seat near a young mother who was keeping an eye on two young children playing with blocks in the corner while a third child cried in her arms. The edge of a plastic seat digging into the backs of his thighs, Iwaizumi tried to tune out the crying as he filled out paperwork asking questions about Oikawa’s life and medical history, while the overly bright fluorescent light above him cast strange shadows around the half empty waiting area.

He returned the paperwork within a few minutes, thankfully able to answer most of the questions, before being scolded by the man’s deep voice when he tried to make his way over to Oikawa’s curtain.

“Someone will come and get you when you can see him,” he said, his eyebrows stern above flat brown eyes. Iwaizumi’s hands clenched at his sides, wanting to argue, wanting this nurse to understand that he’d promised Tooru that he wouldn’t leave him, that he’d been forced to do exactly that without explaining why, that nobody else knew but Tooru was a little bit afraid of hospitals, that the smell of antiseptic made his nose sting, that more than anything, Tooru hated being cold and Iwaizumi had his jacket.

But it wasn’t this nurses fault, and so instead he collapsed into his chair, his head in his hands and desperately tried to calm his racing heart.

* * *

Iwaizumi wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he heard a voice, familiar as his own mother’s, but tinged with just an edge of panic.

He stood so quickly that his vision blurred and went black near the edges. A dull roar sounded in his ears and his head seemed to wobble as he turned to look for Oikawa’s mother. He took a deep, steadying breath, his vision clearing as he watched her make her way down the centre aisle between the chairs, heading straight towards the desk, determination in every line of her body. Her coat flapped behind her, handbag strung across her chest and slapping against her hip, heels clipping loud and brisk on the speckled linoleum floor. With every step, the hasty bun atop her head slid lower as thick strands of erratically curled hair escaped it. She roughly pushed them away from her face, speaking quickly into a phone held tight to her ear, before hanging up and shoving it into her bag. He didn’t think she would notice him, focused as she was and for a moment he was glad. He didn’t think he had the courage to face her. But she was a perceptive woman, an annoying trait she had passed on to her son, and her eyes, identical to Oikawa’s, found the single point of stillness that was Iwaizumi among the restrained chaos of the waiting room.

Iwaizumi watched as she changed her course, zigzagging past collections of people, towards his seat. He thought at first she was angry, her eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched, the same expression he had seen so many times on Oikawa’s face. She marched closer to him and Iwaizumi prepared himself for her anger. It was well deserved he thought, after all he had let her down. They both knew that Oikawa couldn’t be trusted with himself when it came to Volleyball. Together they had an unspoken agreement, that they would watch over Oikawa and ensure that he was allowed to go as far as he dared. It was why Iwaizumi stayed behind with Oikawa after each practice. Because if Oikawa was going to succeed, then Iwaizumi was going to be right there with him. But now he had failed both Oikawa and his mother. He had let Oikawa be injured, and despite knowing that Oikawa didn't take care of himself he had never even considered the possibility of him being injured. He didn't even know how this could happen or how he became trapped in this nightmare. His train of thought drove forward at light speed, berating himself over and over as finally Oikawa’s mother stopped in front of him, eyes staring into his and he noticed that her hands were shaking, knuckles white with tension where they clasped the strap of her bag.

Before he could help it, his thoughts scattered and his eyes dropped away from hers in shame. Words tumbled from his mouth, fists clenched at his sides as he attempted to hold them back. He felt his barely constructed calm exterior fracture in her presence, the guilt and fear and frustration welling up in him so that his voice came out louder and harsher than intended, the way it always did with Tooru.

“I’m so _so_ sorry. I don’t know what happened, he was fine and then I looked back and he was on the ground and I, I should have stopped him, I should have known, I mean he was just lying there and I didn't, I couldn't, and then the ambul-”

“Hajime, Hajime it’s ok.” Her warm, velvet voice washed over him. Deeper than you expected and insistent as she tried to catch Iwaizumi’s attention, her hands firm as she rubbed them soothingly up and down his arms.

Iwaizumi’s hands clenched even harder, his knuckles crunching in pain, “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, so sorry.”

“Hajime, Hajime please take a breath. Look at me, please. It’s ok. Look at me.”

Iwaizumi finally stopped, taking a deep breath and forced his eyes up to meet hers. They were surrounded by fine lines, mascara and eyeliner slightly smudged and, to his surprise, glassy with tears.

“Thank you, Hajime.” Her voice cracked and she breathed in a sob as it tried to escape. “For helping him and calling the ambulance. For being with him this whole time. I know there’s no one Tooru would have wanted by his side more than you.”

And suddenly the tears in her eyes overflowed and Iwaizumi was caught up in a hug filled with an unexpected strength. Before he could respond, Mrs Oikawa’s gentle voice, sounded near his ear. “Thank you for helping my baby.”

The feeling of Oikawa’s mother trembling, her voice breaking as she thanked him again, cracked the wall Iwaizumi had thrown up in an effort to hold it together for Oikawa’s sake. This woman had been like a second mother to him, she would understand. He put his arms around her, squeezing gently and whispered “I didn’t…..I couldn’t help him. I tried but I didn’t know what to do.”

To his embarrassment he felt tears well, the first he had shed and turned his face into her soft neck, her hair tickling his skin as he whispered, voice cracking, “I was so scared.”

Oikawa’s mother held him, her hand rubbing calming circles into his back until both of their breathing settled. Finally, she pulled back, wiping the tears from her eyes, fingers stained with black streaks from wet mascara, thankfully not commenting on the glassy shine of Iwaizumi’s. “You did your best and that is all I can ask for. Tooru is lucky to have you.”

Iwaizumi hesitated a second, not sure what it meant to agree, before nodding. She slapped his arm, leaning down and hefting Oikawa’s bag onto her shoulder, her small frame leaning to deal with the weight. “Now,” she lifted her face, hands braced on her hips, “let’s go see my son.”

She spun on her heel and made her way to the front desk, leaving Iwaizumi to scramble in her wake, picking up his bag and Oikawa’s jacket.

As luck would have it, at that exact moment a young nurse, smiling brightly emerged from the series of curtained off sections and made her way over to the front desk. Mrs Oikawa and Iwaizumi heard her tell the nurse behind the desk that Oikawa Tooru’s family were welcome to come through and see him when they arrived. Iwaizumi was surprised to see a gentle smile grace the man’s face as he thanked the nurse before it dropped away as he turned towards them.

“Can I help you ma’am?”

“Yes, it would seem that I can see my son now?”

“You’re Oikawa Tooru’s mother?”

“Yes.”

“If you can please confirm the information provided in this document for our records and return it to me when you are done. Your son is behind the last curtain on your left. A maximum of two family-” The man’s eyes narrowed as he threw a dirty look toward Iwaizumi “-members are allowed by the bedside at one time.”

“Thank you. My son -” Iwaizumi felt a hand land heavily on his shoulder “- and I will go through now.” He turned to see Mrs Oikawa’s face curled into the kind of smile that mother’s use to terrify their children, before she pushed him in front of her as they made their way to the end of the room. Oikawa’s mother was always so nice to him that he sometimes forgot that Oikawa’s shitty personality was inherited as well.

Hajime soon found himself pushing aside the curtain surrounding Oikawa’s bed just as a nurse was leaving. He heard Mrs Oikawa pull the nurse aside, presumably to ask how her son was out of his hearing, but Iwaizumi didn’t care to listen, needing to see Oikawa and so stepped around her.

Under the harsh fluorescent lights above his bed, Oikawa’s usually cream skin looked flat and dull and the shadows under his eyes looked like horrible bruises. His hair was an absolute mess, flicking in every direction. He appeared to still be in his volleyball uniform, tucked under a thin white hospital blanket. There were various mechanical beeps that Iwaizumi glanced at before ignoring. His eyes skipped over the suspiciously large lump under the blanket where he suspected Oikawa’s knee was. Instead his eyes flicked to Oikawa’s hands, watching his long fingers pick at the surgical tape holding down an inserted IV, before looking straight into Oikawa’s face. Their eyes met, questions asked and reassurances given in the split second before Oikawa opened his mouth. To whine, Iwaizumi guessed.

“Hajime, you’re back! Where did you go? They kept asking me questions about what we were doing and vo-” he stopped abruptly, gulping and clenching his hands in the thin blanket before forcing himself to continue, voice deceptively sunny. “-And no one would answer me when I asked where you were, and can you believe they _stabbed_ me? Honestly, _me_!”

“Sounds like they didn’t stab you hard enough if you can complain about it.”

“Mean Iwa-chan,” Oikawa pouted, his eyes following Iwaizumi as he dropped his bag in the corner of their little curtained room before coming to stand by the bed. Neither said anything as Iwaizumi gently lifted Oikawa’s ‘stabbed’ hand, examining the IV and the grey clip on the tip of his slender index finger that seemed connected to one of the many machines. Iwaizumi used his thumb to smooth the slight puckering of skin from the pull of the medical tape, giving Oikawa’s hand a firm squeeze. He lifted his eyes to meet Oikawa’s, looking intently, not sure what he was trying to ask. Oikawa gazed back, his eyes twin cups of warm coffee, flicking around Iwaizumi’s face. He blinked and looked away before Iwaizumi felt an answering squeeze, strong enough that he felt the bones in his hand grind together.

They dropped each others hands, Iwaizumi smirking and smacked Oikawa on the head as he said “You look like an absolute wreck, messykawa.”

Oikawa’s face lit up in indignation, ready to reprimand Iwaizumi and loudly complain about how it would take him forever to untangle his hair from its current mess when his eyes slid over his shoulder and lit up in surprise. “Mum!”

“Oh Tooru sweetheart!” Iwaizumi stepped to the side, allowing Mrs Oikawa to rush over to her son, unceremoniously dumping his bag on the floor and flinging herself about his neck. Iwaizumi made to pick up the bag and store it under the chair, seeing the shake in Mrs Oikawa’s shoulders and looking away as he fumbled through Oikawa’s bag, looking for one of the little packets of tissues he always carried.

“Mum, I’m fine, Mum, Mum you’re squishing me,” Oikawa’s tone squeaked higher in slight distress, Iwaizumi turning around to see his non IV’d hand patting his mums back, his eyes finding Iwaizumi’s and rolling, Iwaizumi shooting him a disapproving glare. Finally Mrs Oikawa pulled away and dragged the single chair closer to the bed before sitting and accepting the tissues from Iwaizumi with a small smile.

“Sweetheart are you okay?” she asked as she dabbed at her eyes. One of her hands grasping Oikawa’s tightly.

“I’m fine, just a little cold.” Iwaizumi remembered he was holding Oikawa’s jacket and passed it to Mrs Oikawa so she could lay it over and tuck it under her son’s shoulders.

As they chatted Iwaizumi glanced at his phone, noticing a collection of unread texts and missed calls from his mother. His shoulders drooped in a sigh as he made his way to the curtains edge with a muttered “I’ll give you two some privacy.” He brushed the curtain out of his way but before he could leave he heard Oikawa’s distressed voice. “Hajime where are you going? Mum, is Hajime leaving? I don’t want-”

“It’s ok Shittykawa.” Iwaizumi interrupted, turning back, his voice and body stern. “I’m just going to call my mum. Let her know where I am.”

“So you’ll come back yeah? You aren’t leaving?” Iwaizumi felt an uncomfortable squeeze in his chest, seeing his friend sitting there, his mother fussing with the blankets and an edge of panic making his voice sharp.

His voice came out softer and gruffer than he intended, almost embarrassingly tender, when he assured “I’m not going anywhere, don’t worry.”

* * *

It was well into the night when finally Oikawa and Iwaizumi were alone again. Once she knew what had happened, Iwaizumi’s mother stopped scolding him for disappearing without a trace and had no problems with him staying the night at the hospital, as long as he let her know what was happening and if anyone needed anything. Iwaizumi could envision her small, stocky body moving determinedly throughout their kitchen as she canvassed their pantry and fridge, thinking of what dishes she would make and force Iwaizumi to deliver to Oikawa’s family.

Oikawa’s mother had stayed until the doctors confirmed that he could be moved from the ER to a private room in the children’s wing of the hospital. After almost an hour of paperwork, coordinating with the nurses and a short wheelchair ride, which Oikawa was gracious about but that Iwaizumi could see left him embarrassed, they were finally escorted into a small, white and chemical smelling room. Oikawa’s mother left soon after to fetch his pyjamas and some fresh clothes from home, after being assured that he would be in the hospital for the next few days while he got some scans and had an appointment with the hospital physiotherapist.

The room had just enough space for the bed, a small side table and a single chair. Not one to waste time, Iwaizumi was currently sitting in the chair, awkwardly trying to balance his maths textbook and both his and Oikawa’s notebooks on his knees. The chair was affrontingly uncomfortable, and seemed to be missing the piece that prevented the sitter from sinking into the chair and ending up uncomfortably close to the ground, resulting in Iwaizumi’s knees being almost hilariously close to his chest. The room was quiet, bar the soft snippets of hallway conversation the door failed to prevent, as Iwaizumi focused on finishing the last question and Oikawa leaned over the side of the bed, watching Iwaizumi work and providing helpful and hindering comments in equal measure.

Oikawa’s long finger tapped Iwaizumi’s final solution, “You forgot to simplify again Iwa-chan. You always seem to forget.”

“What does it matter?” Iwaizumi sighed, attempting to lean back and stretch the muscles in his back after hunching for so long. “It’s the same thing, just...bigger.”

“Maths is about elegance, something I don’t expect you to understand.” Oikawa continued as he leaned fully back onto the bed, “trust me Iwa-chan, it’s not pretty if you don’t simplify.” Iwaizumi leaned down to stuff his pen back in his pencil case, if only to prevent throwing it at Oikawa’s head. So what if Oikawa was great at math, Iwaizumi always beat him in English.

“Whatever. I’m finally done. No thanks to you.”

“I was here for moral support.”

Iwaizumi packed up both their bags, ensuring nothing was left out before stretching and sinking into the horrible chair once again. He reached to the small bedside table where his and Oikawa’s phones were, the screen lighting up to reveal the time 23:50.

He looked at Oikawa as he lifted his arms, one hindered by the length of IV cord, stretching his body before covering a yawn with a hand, blinking away tears.

“It’s late” Iwaizumi stated, Oikawa’s head turning to his in response. “Let’s go to sleep. Your mum won’t be back until the morning.”

Thankfully for once, Oikawa didn’t argue. He lied down on the bed, arranging the blankets around him as Iwaizumi rounded the bed to pull the curtains closed over the window. He turned, walking the few steps to the door and flicked off the light, leaving the room gently illuminated by the square window in the door, which let the hallway light in.

He turned back, suppressing a sigh as he watched Oikawa fiddle with the blankets, struggling and failing to get his stupidly long body covered by a single blanket. Sighing once more, he stepped out of the room, ignoring Oikawa’s questioning hum as he made his way back to the desk in the centre of the floor and asked the nurse for some more blankets. He returned with two more thin white ones and a bright orange fleece. Dropping them on the foot of the bed, he pulled Oikawa’s jacket off the bed from where it still rested around his shoulders, throwing it onto the chair and chucking one white blanket at Oikawa’s face, while he unfolded the other white one and tucked it over his legs and under the edges of the bed, the way his mother had taught him. Once that was done, he folded Oikawa’s jacket, placing it on top his bag and stood in front of his chair, wrapping his body into a giant orange burrito and falling back into the chair.

After a few minutes of silence, Iwaizumi could hear Oikawa fidgeting on the bed, the plastic bed sheet beneath his body crinkling with each movement.

Iwaizumi kept his eyes shut as he said “Just try and relax Tooru. Sleep if you can.”

“I can’t.” Oikawa whined, the crinkling sound increasing. “Everytime I move this stupid bed makes noise, and what if I rip out my IV while I sleep and I _bleed to death_. What then Iwa-chan?”

“You know you won’t bleed to death. Stop being melodramatic.”

“What if I do though, in a freak IV accident?”

“Well then, bleed out. You’ll finally be still and I can rest. Problem solved.”

“Haajiimeeeeee.” Iwaizumi ignored him, trying to get comfortable on literally the most uncomfortable piece of shit he had ever tried to get comfortable on. After a few more minutes of crinkling and his own failed attempts at comfort, he released all his suffering into a sigh and open his eyes to find Oikawa looking at him.

“I don’t remember you rolling when we were little and sharing a bed.” Oikawa blinked in surprise at the comment, before replying “Well, that’s because there was no room to roll, my bed was bloody tiny, and- ” His eyes slid away from Iwaizumi, the hallway light just enough to see the rising blush tint his cheeks as his voice softened, “and something about being mildly squished and warm makes you automatically comfortable.”

Hajime looked at Oikawa consideringly, remembering the nights spent passed out in either one of their beds, warm from the bath and exhausted from days spent chasing bugs or playing volleyball. Before he could reconsider, he stood up, Oikawa’s eyebrows rising in surprise and sitting up in the bed in response.

“Move over.”

Oikawa’s eyebrows rose another half a centimetre. “Huh?”

“I said move over.”

Oikawa shuffled over in the bed, his back to the window. His eyes followed Iwaizumi as he let his blanket fall to the floor before removing and folding his jacket over his bag. He grabbed both his and Oikawa’s phones, unlocking them and turning off their usual morning alarms.

Seeing this Oikawa asked “What time is your mum coming to pick you up for school?”

“She’s not. She has an early meeting” Iwaizumi replied, replacing the phones on the small side table.

“How are you getting to school then?” Oikawa’s eyes continued to follow Iwaizumi as he stepped out of the puddled fleece and flung it, its high visibility orange colour dampened by the darkness in the room, over the end of the bed, tucking it in with the rest of the blankets.

“She put some money in my account for the train.”

“Oh, so what time are you leaving?”

“I’m not.” Iwaizumi paused at the foot of the bed and looked up.

Oikawa’s eyes widened, his smile mostly conspiratory and just the tiniest bit wobbly, stretching his face. “Iwa-chan” he scolded, his voice full of sarcastic reproach. “You should have told me earlier, I would have organised all this for a day when we had an exam or something.” Iwaizumi smirked as he moved to the side of the bed Oikawa wasn’t on.

He lifted the combination of blankets and crawled in, making sure his back was covered and trying to leave room around Oikawa’s knees. Iwaizumi lay mostly on his back, his arms crossed over his chest, his hips and legs twisted to Oikawa. Oikawa rested on his side, his left arm curled on the pillow, his right tucked across his chest, fingers squished between his body and the mattress. His injured knee rested on a pillow tucked beneath the blankets, as he moved his uninjured leg so that his toes, warm in their socks, rested against Iwaizumi’s shin. The bed wasn’t wide and Iwaizumi’s skin burned with heat where his shoulder, arm and hip lay flush against Oikawa.

“You can ask them to set up a cot for you” Oikawa said, knowing that Iwaizumi often woke up with sweat slicked skin if he slept under too many blankets.

“It’s fine. It’s chilly tonight and it will be warmer with the both of us.” With that, both boys settled, their quiet breathing the only sound in the room. Iwaizumi could feel himself drifting, feel himself sinking further and further into sleep when he heard Oikawa’s whispered “Hajime?”

With what felt like a monumental effort, he cracked open one eye, looking at Oikawa. He had tucked the orange blanket over and under his shoulders so that he looked like a dismembered, talking head. Iwaizumi snorted and closed his eye before whispering back “What?”

It was quiet a moment, Iwaizumi listening to Oikawa’s breathing as he waited.

“Thank you.”

He didn’t need to say more than that. Iwaizumi knew what he meant. He knew it was a thank you for today, for being there and staying through it all. It was a thank you for deflecting his mother’s attention when she tried to speak to Oikawa about what the doctors had said when he knew he wasn’t ready to hear it yet. It was thank you for doing his homework, for getting more blankets than he liked to sleep with, because he knew Oikawa got cold as he slept. It was thank you for not pressing Oikawa. For not saying anything when he heard his mum say that Oikawa’s knee had been hurting after practice recently, and realising that Oikawa hadn’t told him. It was a sorry for lying, and a thank you for staying anyway. But mostly he knew it was a thank you for right now. For this quiet, solid comfort. For keeping him together when he couldn’t do it himself. For the unspoken promise that no matter what happened, no matter what they faced tomorrow or the day after, that Iwaizumi would always be there. It was a thank you for all of the future thank you’s.

“You got it Sleepykawa. Now be quiet, I’m gonna dream of growing taller and pushing you off the podium at Nationals.”

Oikawa hummed contentedly, a sign of how exhausted he truly was that he didn’t object to the idea of Iwaizumi’s growth. His hand moved, finding Iwaizumi’s and intertwining their fingers, as finally Iwaizumi drifted into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The way this played out in my mind, you’d think Oikawa had been stabbed and was bleeding to death in Iwa’s arms haha. I haven’t written an injury before so if you have any tips, please let me know.
> 
> If you can, please take a moment to comment, distressed noises welcomed and encouraged. You have no idea how much each means to me.
> 
> Also, I have some hc’s about Oikawa’s family. If you are interested, let me know and I can post them on my tumblr.

**Author's Note:**

> I have been sitting on this chapter for months and I finally decided (I definitely am NOT procrastinating from writing a report) to publish it. I hope you enjoy :D 
> 
> Please leave a kudos or comment and let me know what you think, especially what you thought of how I structured it as I haven't written anything like it before.


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